Sweet Heart
by miairii
Summary: He lurks in the dark. She draws him out into the light. Will he let it consume him, or will he consume her first?
1. Blood

**A/N: I started writing this little ficlet for the Ho Hey Contest – inspired by the song by The Lumineers. I didn't manage to finish in time (actually…it's not finished yet, haha), but I still wanted to put it up! Be sure to check out the other entries in the contest; voting is now open! (/u/4392156/Ho-Hey-Contest)**

**I may have another entry in there… :)**

**Disclaimer – I do not own Twilight. Rated M for language and dark themes.**

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**Chapter 1**

**BLOOD**

It's raining the first night she calls to me.

I'm seated in a dark corner of the bar, blending into the shadows as usual, scouring the crowd for something appealing. Something…sweet. Everything these days has been sour, much too sour. It's almost as bad as going without. I need a change of pace.

I watch. I listen.

A man at the bar eyes a pair of legs attached to a blonde model-type who's way beyond his league.

_*Damn, so fucking hot. How can I get that in my bed? Just need to get her a drink. Ok, maybe more like ten drinks. Wait a sec…shit, she's with him? Never mind.*_

Blondie attaches herself to a debonair businessman and proceeds to smear her lipstick all over his face.

**Sour.**

Moving on.

A young couple holds a stilted conversation at a table near the entrance. Every time the door opens, they each sneak a peek, hoping the other won't notice. If a man enters, the girl sighs and looks back down, while the boy appraises him through narrowed eyes. If it's a woman, the roles are reversed.

I wonder how common the name *_Jacob Black*_ is, because they're both thinking it. They're both looking for the same person, and yet they're both hoping that he doesn't show up. What a conundrum.

And he's walking down the block right now, headed towards this place. I've never heard someone so in love with themselves that they constantly think their own full name. Otherwise, my only clue would have been the looks on all three of their faces when he stops short in the doorway.

He's a good-looking guy: dark skin, tall, rough build. But even that doesn't help him when he gets a slap to the face and a punch to the gut. Seems like now that there's a common enemy, the couple's earlier feud is long forgotten. They're all cheesy smiles and "I'm sorry's" and "I love you's."

**Too fucking sour.**

I might owe a favor to Jacob someday, though. He beats a hasty exit back to the door, and as he slips through I catch the first whiff of my newest fixation.

Because I'm already obsessed. I'm up out of my seat and out the door before it closes behind him. Nobody notices. Why would they? In the shadows, I'm invisible.

**This is where I belong.**

Outside, I pull in a deep breath of damp air. I can taste a hint of the aroma on my tongue, but because of the rain it's hard to get a good read on direction. It's a bit stronger to the right, so I pivot and take off that way. If I wait too long, the scent will be washed away, and I can't have that. Only the slightest trace already has me hooked; I want to find the source. _Need_ to find it.

Something to dilute the sour.

I move along at a brisk pace, for a few reasons. For my kind, the speed is comfortable; no one can see me; and it ensures that I don't get wet.

You know that movie where the guy learns to react quickly by swiping his hand through falling water droplets without getting hit? Yeah, that's a fucking joke. Forget running fast enough to dodge the raindrops – way too much work. I'm just running faster than them. Period.

I can already tell I'm catching up. I begin to pick out different flavors in the air – some kind of fruit, a flower, perhaps nectar? It's quite the enticing combination. Somehow it overpowers every other scent that has crossed its path.

It's tempting, intoxicating, _arousing_.

**Delicious…**

**I want.**

Suddenly, it cuts off; I've reached the end of the trail. But the scent here is slightly old, and there's no one in sight. _What the hell?_ I skid to a stop, looking around, confused. Humans can't just vanish into thin air.

I should know – otherwise it'd be so much easier to deal with the bodies.

But I digress.

Taking in my surroundings, I groan loudly when I realize what has happened. I'm standing on a street corner. Right next to a bus stop. _Seriously? _I fucking hate busses, almost as much as I hate airplanes. A bunch of sweaty humans crammed into a little tin can? Now that's a recipe for disaster – especially if you throw me in there with them.

While I expect I could easily track down the vehicle, I find myself losing the enthusiasm for this wild goose chase. The night was already lacking promise, and now, the scent of my dreams – if I could have them – is gone. It's just one more reminder that there's no reward to living this life.

Or death. Whatever.

I haven't gone too far from the bar, so I decide to head back. There isn't anything better around here anyway. When I get within a few blocks, I can suddenly make out the sound of a woman's scream. And yet, nobody on the street is reacting – with good reason.

She's screaming mentally. From what I can tell, she is currently physically unable to make noise.

And inside her mind…it's terrifying. The images are jumbled, distorted. But not badly enough that I can't put together the pieces to paint a picture of what's been done to her.

Already frustrated with my evening, I choose to forgo returning to the bar and make do with what I've stumbled upon here. I reach the right spot, peering down a dark alley. How typical.

Just as I start to head on in, a man appears at the entrance, trying to shuffle past me. He keeps his head down, hands in his pockets, a neutral expression carefully plastered on his face. _But I can tell._ Not just from what I saw in the girl's mind. Nor from the way his shirt is partially untucked, or the faint red scratches on the backs of his arms, or from the paranoid glance he gives me out of the corner of his eye.

It's not even the way his own thoughts are racing a mile a minute, trying to justify what he's done and figure out how to get away with it.

I absorb all of this, cementing his guilt in my book, but there's just one more thing that pushes me over the edge.

**I can smell her on him.**

And that's not the type of scent that any woman would ever want to leave on a man.

He doesn't have time to register my movement before his neck is snapped and his body crumpled on the ground. I know the corpse will get cold quickly, but he's not the one I want. This is to ensure he doesn't make any noise to alert the others.

Because yes, there are others: four more, down at the end of the alley. Three of them hovering over the prone figure on the ground, the last leaning confidently against the wall, watching. The smirk on his face and his unzipped pants tell me he's already had his fun. I've got my eye on that one.

_Hello again, Mr. Businessman._

I stroll forward, tipping an imaginary hat as I call out, "Evening, gentlemen."

It's amusing to watch all of their heads whip around in unison.

The three dogs are torn between fight and flight. Should they make excuses, claim their innocence, and escape? Or should they challenge my presence? I am outnumbered, after all. They instinctively turn to look at their leader - *_King_* as he likes to be called - for guidance.

He's just staring at me, searching. I stare back. After a minute, his smile falters a bit. He's done pretty well, but humans just can't meet my eyes for long before they start feeling…strange. He won't be able to last much longer. Since I know what he wants to see, I give it to him. I raise an eyebrow. Throw in a smirk.

He instantly relaxes. He thinks he's met someone _like him_.

**Can I kill him yet?**

_Just hold on._

King nods in the direction of the girl, an open invitation. I turn and kneel in front of her, actually looking straight at her for the first time. She's in bad shape. I could go into more detail, but that just about sums it up. She won't make it very long.

"Hey, Blondie," I murmur. I trace my fingertips lightly over the swollen bruises on her face.

From her mind, it seems that what she'd really like to do right now is bite my hand off, although she lacks the strength to move. I chuckle to myself – she's still got some fight left in her.

"Sorry, but that won't really help. Is there anything else I can do for you, though?"

I stare directly into her eyes. She knows what I'm asking. I'm giving her a choice - because that's what I would have wanted.

I know that if my…_father_…had found her like this, he would not hesitate. She'd be one of us before even I could blink. And although I think I would have chosen the same ending anyway, I've come to realize that there are some times when you absolutely need to be in control. Such as deciding what to do with your own life – even if that means giving it up.

Forever is a long time for regret.

Not that I'm itching to turn her. I don't even know if I'd go through with it, even if it was her choice. But that's something to think about later.

She's conjured up a picture of a little boy, bouncing black curls and bright eyes. He looks nothing like her, but the feeling of love surrounding the image is extremely strong.

"Yours?"

She pictures another woman holding the child. Nothing special about her, except that she looks…happy. Something about the crinkles near the corners of her eyes. It's not something that I see often when I look in the mirror, and I get the feeling that Blondie is the same. It doesn't take long for me to understand.

"No…you'd never get that if you were like me."

Her answer then is firm. *_No.*_ If she can't have the one thing she's always wanted, then it isn't worth it. Without even knowing the full extent of the price.

I envy her, then. Not because of her current situation, of course. But because she _knows_. In just the few short years she's been on this earth, she knows what she wants. I'll have forever, and there's no way of knowing if I'll ever find that for myself. After searching for it, for how many years now…

I nod in response, and stand. The boys have been getting antsy, watching me with her, so it's about time for the main event.

"Pick one," I tell her. She pictures King. Obviously. "And the others?" She doesn't care. "Got it. I'll get them out of your way."

They're easy enough to take care of, huddling together just a few feet away. Not wanting to soil her resting ground, or ruin the grand finale, I avoid spilling any of their blood. Three quick cracks, and it's done. A shabby heap on the concrete.

Blondie's surprised, but happy. I grin, turning to King. I'm pretty sure he hasn't blinked, gaping at what used to be his friends.

Slowly, he turns my way.

**Adrenaline. Fear. I can taste it.**

The blood is pumping through his veins in a mad rush. It can – and will, very soon – escape him, but not me. I stalk towards him, and there's nowhere for him to go. Knowing how much pain he's inflicted, I decide to have a little fun. I slow my steps, faltering a little, feigning weakness. Just as predicted, he thinks it's his chance. He swings a fist.

_Crack_.

Ouch, that's gotta hurt. Three knuckles completely busted. He howls in pain. I chuckle.

**What a beautiful sound.**

I grab his arm, pulling him to stand in front of my eager audience. His collar rips away easily, exposing his neck to us both. She wants to see _everything_. I oblige.

His eyes are clenched shut, body visibly trembling. I lower my nose to his skin, inhaling deeply.

"Look at her," I growl. He's too afraid to disobey. "Look at what you've done."

He's whimpering out excuses, apologies, pleas for me to let him go. An endless stream of background noise. Just before I lean in to end it, I catch the tone of regret in his voice, mirrored in his thoughts.

I pause.

**Every fucking time. Get over it already!**

It's been years, and yet I still stop myself at the exact same moment. The point of no return. I just can't continue without asking:_ Am I doing the right thing?_

**He deserves it.**

_But am I the one to make that judgment?_

**If not you, then who? Who else can punish him for what he's done? What they've all done?**

_I don't know…_

**Look at her. She needs this.**

I look over at Blondie. She's slipping away fast. But her eyes are still gleaming, filled with the hope that she'll be granted this one last favor.

Usually I can save them. The victims. But if not - if I'm too late - they very rarely get the chance to see justice done.

I can't resist those eyes.

Without further delay I sink my teeth into his neck, moaning in pleasure as the first rush of blood hits my throat. _Warm, smooth, thick._ I swallow greedily, slurping at the rich liquid. When the first wave starts to slow, I lessen the pace of my pulls. I draw them out, relishing in each wince of pain that crosses King's face. I know that the slower I go, the more excruciating it will feel.

**It feels…so good. Make it last.**

I try to concentrate on the texture, not the taste. There's always something a little bit…off, with the targets I choose. Never as sweet as I want it. Sometimes it's sour, but mostly-

**Bitter.**

That's right. Bitter, like the loss of happiness and innocence. Like everything good has already been drained out of him.

Like I imagine Blondie would feel if she woke up like me.

It's ironically a bittersweet feeling when I finally drop him to the ground, completely dry. Almost simultaneously, the light fades from the girl's eyes and her heart stutters to a stop. Everything is silent.

I'm alone once again.

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**How are we doing so far? Want to see more? Let me know!**


	2. Hope

**Disclaimer – I do not own Twilight.**

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**Chapter 2**

**HOPE**

The second time she tempts me, the sun is shining brightly.

It's taunting me.

I stop by the public library in the morning to read up on a particular subject that's been bugging me for days - ever since that night in the alley. I'm not entirely sure what insight a few medical textbooks on human obsessions and addictions will have to offer, but it's worth a shot. I have to try something, _anything_.

I can't stop thinking about that scent I followed through the rain.

I don't have any objects that it touched, and yet the fragrance seems to linger around me. I swear I can smell it wherever I go, but it's never actually strong enough to suggest that the source is near. There's a constant pull tugging on something deep within, telling me I need to find it. I've tried to distract myself with other flavors – there's always work to be done around here, anyway – but it kind of feels like I'm a junkie that just can't quite get the right fix.

Of course, the human texts are useless. And since I'm already having such fabulous luck, it appears that the early morning clouds have cleared away to yield a perfectly sunny day. I must have forgotten – didn't think that was possible – to check the full weather report today.

**Pathetic.**

I waste some time wandering through the stacks, looking to see if I can find a book I haven't read yet. That's a difficult challenge, seeing as how I've been in existence longer than most of the contents of this library.

Suddenly, it hits me.

_That scent!_

It's very, very close, and much stronger than the other night. I have to tamp down hard on the urge to travel above human speed, lest some bystander happen to catch a glimpse. I move as rapidly as I deem to be safe, but every step feels excruciatingly slow.

This is one of those rare moments in which having all the time in the world – quite literally – is absolutely useless.

I round the corner of an isolated row and am abruptly engulfed in a thick wave of that glorious fragrance. Floating tendrils in the air surround me and pull me in, forcing venom to swiftly pool in my mouth. I swallow heavily, sweeping my head around hoping to catch a sign of the source, but am once again met with emptiness.

I scent out the point of highest concentration, near the end of the row. Closing my eyes to open up my other senses, I breathe in deeply, feeling the elixir fill my lungs. My entire body trembles with the sensation.

**Imagine how it would feel to have that sweet, luscious blood instead…**

Shaking my head to clear those thoughts, I trail my nose along the row of volumes lining the middle shelf, searching for the one with the strongest trace. _There it is! _Just as I'm tipping a small book into my hand, I detect the continuation of the scent trail, branching out past the end of the row.

And I'm off again.

No time to pause, no time to think. I just _have_ to get there. Wherever "there" is.

The path loops back towards the front of the library, past the checkout counter, and … _oh shit!_ My single-minded focus and haste has me catching the front door just as it's latching behind what I believe to be my target, pulling it open and taking a single step over the threshold, only to immediately retreat back inside when the brightness of the sun knocks me back into full awareness of my surroundings.

That was way too fucking close! How dangerous, that a mere scent would commandeer my senses so completely that I would be on the verge of public exposure. I quickly scan the minds of everyone within range and find, to my immense relief, that no one has noticed a thing. I sidle over to the closest window, peeking around an edge of the curtain.

**Ooh, big scary vampire spying out the window at the humans with his sparkly nose on full display. Some predator you are.**

There's a lone figure moving down the library steps towards the street. From my vantage point, I can see long mahogany hair flowing in waves ending just above the most delectable ass I have ever laid eyes on. An hourglass waist flows sinuously into the shapely curve of her hips, leading down to toned legs sheathed in form-fitting denim. As soon as she reaches the sidewalk, she pauses – those few seconds feel like a lifetime – and then turns around to glance back.

I swear she stares directly at me.

Although I know for a fact that human vision isn't good enough to actually see me from that distance, and the only thing she might catch is a stray reflection off of my nose, I can't help the feeling that those warm chocolate brown eyes know exactly where to look. She gazes unblinkingly in my direction for a full minute, and I find myself holding my breath in anticipation. I feel a sharp tug from that all-too-familiar pull in my chest.

Suddenly, she whips back around and rushes away, stumbling slightly, down the street and out of sight.

I stare after her, contemplating. Although I wasn't able to follow her outside, I just _know,_ somehow, that she must be the owner of that enticing scent. After a while, I slink off to a back corner of the library, sinking into a reading chair with a huff, now thoroughly pissed off. How the hell could I be thrown off of the trail, _again_? It's like the heavens themselves are working against me to keep her away. I cautiously sniff the book I've still got clasped in my hand. Definitely the sweetest scent I've ever found.

**I want her.**

_In more than one way…_

I get lost for a moment in a vision of deep brown doe eyes, but then feel my own pop open wide when I happen to catch sight of the book's title.

"_Supernatural Beings: Truth and Myth Revealed"_

I know my mouth has dropped open in shock. Why was she reading something like this? I flip open the cover to see that only one person has ever checked it out.

Isabella Swan.

_Isabella_. Bella, perhaps. A lovely name – very fitting for the beautiful woman I've only caught a glimpse of.

I find the table of contents and scroll through until I see a section that catches my eye. Of course, I know all published information about us is way off the mark, on purpose, but my curiosity is piqued. I wonder if Isabella has read this part.

I flip to the center and her sweet scent drifts up at me from the pages. _Yes, she was here._ I start reading, just to see what nonsense this particular story is trying to sell.

No more than a few pages in, the shock has returned. Everything written here is true. _Everything_.

Who would be insane enough to write this? You would have to be absolutely crazy – or extremely powerful – to think you could get away with something so blatantly revealing, without having to face the consequences.

The author's name, one "Mary B." (likely a penname), doesn't ring any bells, so I turn to the back cover to see if there's a picture.

**Holy shit, this is-**

There's a picture, alright. And I thank…well, _someone_…that I have the advanced brain capacity to be able to compartmentalize everything I'm seeing.

Fact #1: The photo is of two vampires.

Two vampires, holding hands and smiling. _Creepy_. The girl in front is a tiny little thing, spiky black hair pointing in all directions. The size of the grin on her face suggests she's found the secret to eternal life.

Oh…right.

Well, imagine if she were a human who'd learned that secret, except without all the nasty side effects. Suffice it to say, she's pretty damn happy. It's somewhat unnerving.

This is by far the easiest detail to accept.

Fact #2: The man standing next to her is Jasper Whitlock.

_The Major of the Southern Wars._

I've seen him in enough minds to be able to recognize him easily, and to want absolutely nothing to do with him. Truthfully, based on my experiences through others' memories, the mere sight of him in the photo already has me on edge. Except (or perhaps, especially) when I combine this with Fact #1.

He's smiling – quite tenderly, in fact – at the little runt. _Double creepy._

In all the memories I've been privy to that featured the Major, I have _never_ seen him with a smile. Ever. He always looks like he's about to rip you apart, put you back together, and then do it all over again – his expression a mix of angry and tortured. But here…he looks so peaceful. Like he's found exactly where he belongs.

For the second time in recent days, I find myself jealous of someone who has suffered through much greater misfortune that I could ever imagine.

**It hurts.**

As much as that thought stings, it's the last thing I notice that sends a sharp pang through my chest.

Fact #3: They both have golden eyes.

I haven't seen that color in years, since I've been out on my own. As much as I've tried endlessly to justify this way of life to myself, I can still barely look at my own reflection.

**Red as blood.**

_Why can't mirrors have been one of the myths about vampires that's actually true?_

The most difficult part about it is that I know I'm my only detractor. My family – _god, how I miss them_ – would easily welcome me back with open arms, no matter what. And everybody else, well…I'm exactly what they expect me to be.

**Monster.**

Though I try to meet the higher expectations I've set for myself, it still doesn't feel quite right. Something has definitely been missing all this time. And as I stare at the photo in my hands, showing a man who has so clearly found and achieved a better path in life, I'm humbled. I'm awed. And I'm inspired.

_Maybe…_

As I continue to think about it, I start to wonder if perhaps this book was somehow left here specifically for me to find. I'm not so naïve that I can't see that all the signs are pointing directly to me. There's no one else for whom this could have even a remotely similar impact. If so, there may be a message somewhere in here, something only I could recognize.

I find the idea of a hidden message way too exciting for a man my age.

Ignoring the obvious question as to how this might have been done – my own existence makes it hard not to believe that stranger things have happened – I flip back through the book a little slower. When I reach the author's forward, I know immediately it's what I've been looking for.

_To Masen –_

_This book was meant for you.  
__I think you already understand why.  
__In our world, anything is possible.  
__Don't be afraid to try.  
__She'll be waiting._

_P.S. Happy birthday!_

I ponder these words for a few minutes, before I realize something is off. If I'm to believe that I was meant to see Isabella today, and to find this book at the same time, but today is not my birthday…then it's highly possible that there's another hidden clue in here.

_Why can't they just come straight out and tell me what's going on?_

The book only has three hundred-odd pages, so it can't be the combination of my birth month and day. Technically I would have turned 107 on my last birthday, so I try there first. It appears to be the middle of a section called "Blood Types," and the page contains a heading and a single short paragraph.

_**La Tua Cantante – The "Singer"**_

_A human whose scent is most alluring, and whose blood is sweeter  
__than any other. Each vampire will have their own cantante, whom  
__they may never meet over an eternity of searching, if their paths  
__or periods of existence do not cross. Once found, however, the call  
__of la cantante will be irresistible. Records show that no cantante  
__has ever survived this fateful meeting. If changed, the pull of la  
__cantante will become unrecognizable, and they will lose all appeal._

_No, no, no. _I stare at the words in horror. That can't possibly be right! This can't have all been set up so perfectly, showing Isabella to me and promising that anything is possible, just to tell me that I'm meant to destroy her. To drain the essence out of an innocent soul.

**How cruel.**

Frantically, I flip forward a page to see if there's anything else, any other possibilities. The beginning of the next section is very similar to what I just read, but there is also quite a significant difference.

_**La Tua Cuore – The "Heart"**_

_A human whose scent is most alluring, and whose blood is sweeter  
__than any other. Each vampire will have their own cuore, whom  
__they may never meet over an eternity of searching, if their paths  
__or periods of existence do not cross. Once found, however, the call  
__of la cuore will be irresistible. La cuore is even rarer than la  
__cantante. Records show that only a handful of cuori have ever  
__been found. La cuore is essentially the completion of the soul, the  
__other half of one's existence. This connection can only be identified  
__through tasting of the blood, if the vampire finds their cuore while  
__human and changes them, cementing the eternal bond. A vampire  
__will not be able to drain their cuore, as the soul's halves will recognize  
__each other and will intertwine to prevent separation. If changed  
__by another, the pull of la cuore can still be felt similar to the more  
__familiar mate bond; however, the eternal soul will never be whole._

Once again, I am stunned. This sounds too good to be true. Not only that the other half of my soul could be somewhere out there – maybe even close by if Isabella is the one – but that I might have some semblance of a soul in the first place.

That is something I have never even dared to believe.

I read over the passages again and again. The descriptions are not detailed enough to tell me how to know the difference between the two – how I might be able to tell which pull I'm feeling for Isabella. And the author's cryptic hints are not clear enough to point me in the right direction.

So now, it appears I have to make what may likely be the most significant decision of my existence: Do I track Isabella down to try and figure out the answer, drawing her into the supernatural world, or do I leave her alone to live out an ordinary, human life?

_Is it worth the risk to find out?_

On the one hand, I might find the other half of my soul, eternal love and happiness. This is, of course, assuming that I am able to find her and that she is willing.

And on the other, I might spill the sweet blood of an innocent girl, for nothing more than a temporary high. She would have no chance of surviving.

**Obviously, it's worth it. She's either your soulmate, or the most exquisite snack on the planet. Sounds like a win-win situation.**

_And there's that voice of reason I love so much._

The final scenario I can imagine isn't much better. If Isabella is indeed my _cuore_, but I never attempt to approach her, then I will be dooming us both to live out our days with our souls incomplete.

Stumped for the time being, I spend the rest of the day reading through the entire book, cover to cover, making sure I haven't missed a single detail. When the sun finally sets and it's safe for me to leave, I'm no closer to having an answer than I was before I even found the book.

I can't take any immediate action, since there's no trail left for me to follow. So, coward that I am, for now I simply decide _not_ to decide.

After all, I don't have to choose anything if I never see her again.

* * *

**Only a couple days left to vote in the Ho Hey Contest! ****(/u/4392156/Ho-Hey-Contest) If you have some time, check out my entry "I'm Yours", as well as all the other wonderful stories.**


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